starved again
hunger makes sharp hips
snake like silhouettes
there’s
beauty in bone
in being alone
but
the weight of what was
hangs heavy here
tied down by
liquid lines
of bad habits
disremembered
I also love the guy. But you do know that the .coms are keeping a little tiny bit track of you. Wonder what my IP address reveals. How HEAVY it weighs in the bigger scheme of things. Time’s up. Efficiency, baby.
The need to write is bearing its weight on me. So much, that I can actually feel my butt getting bigger. I like to write, but the need to for work, money, directions, aims, improvement is so heavy that I want to run into the sunset. Weighs me down.
I long for the weight of his words to pin me against these paper town walls. I want to watch them crumple because I found a feeling heavier than a ship, yet gentle as birds in flight. I wish for the weight to be my demise, then to arise from the ashes and become light.
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to be in space. Weightlessly floating through an eternity of darkness without a sound. Another thing that comes to mind is density. What would it feel like to be collapsed in a black hole, or to be taken in by the gravity of a large planet? That would be pretty sweet.
The next thing that comes to mind is the weight of being a human. It seems as though so many people have struggles of their own that they’re trying to get through. When will the day come where peace becomes a universal feeling and understanding? If someone is reading this, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!
You said, “Darling, it’s not a thing to worry about. Forget about it.” Your hands spoke differently. Oh, your eyes were cold. Why did I remember them? You were nothing but jack-daws, faceless mouths, gawping hands. Eyes on your fingers that scoured inches and centimeters, digging into the microscopic pores of my skin. You’re a menace, you should be put down, I yell, hopelessly, my feet dangling an inch from the sidewalk. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
The weight of the world was on her back, and she had no choice but to stand up and walk around with it. It was like having a bag full of bricks and having no other option but to walk around with it. It was painful, she hated everything and she only wanted to quit from everything albeit she couldn’t. Some people have decided to be strong about it, but she was different from those people.
The gravity of it dripped from his arms, his face, stuck to him like sweat, and he struggled under the terrible burden.
Until she appeared, hair flapping like a banner behind her in the wind, her grey eyes filled with sorrow, and she placed a hand on the weight above him, helped him to bear it.
“Atlas,” she said, lips folded into a frown.
“I’m sorry.”
Your weight does not define who you are.
It defines societies restrictions and limits of beauty. q
Whether you weigh less than what is deemed “appropriate,” or “beautiful,” or over the standard, your worth is not limited to a scale that determines your outer and far less important, beauty.
The weight of the world seems to rest on teenagers’ shoulders.
Getting good grades, having extracurricular activities, doing well on the SATs and ACTs, in order to ensure a successful future life.
They hear that they’ll be happy in the future, but what about right now?
I’m trying to write about some other word, but Oneword keeps on showing me the word ‘weight’. Maybe it’s irony or this universe is trying to tell me something.
I’m normal weighted person. I would love to put on some weight. More of muscular mass. I love being fit and strong. We need to take a proper diet in order to keep our weight in correct place. Hope i’ll be this thin in future as well.
She could feel the weight of it pressing down around her, twining greedy fingers around her lungs. The hard knot in her chest refused to budge.
He turned from her then, taking steady steps away from her. Always going the opposite direction. Always treading where she couldn’t reach for him.
The weight of you own lack and your own grief can kill you. Rise above your lack and problems and reach your goals like you have been meant to do. you are a spiritual being in a human material body. Prove it.
The weight of her problems seem to overburden her at times. But with faith and perseverance she she believes that with time everything will be as it should be, and work out fine.
Some people have the weight of the world on their shoulders. When you watch television programmes you can see people who really do. Buffy, for example. She talks a lot of about having “the weight of the world” on her shoulders. Of course, she is fictional. She plays the role of a girl balancing life or death. My situation is different, but yet it’s very much the same.
The weight of the world was on his shoulders. Weighing heavily down, burdening. He could not walk straight. He needed support. He needed sleep. And so he finally put down down the weight on his shoulders. Stopped caring about the world’s problems. And sleep soundlessly.
Weight is a vector quantity if you see it from scientific point of view. It is considered to be the force that pulls everything towards the centre of Earth.
i hate my weight. weight ruins peoples lives. whether its regarding health concerns, or just self confidence. it has ruined me. i wish i was thinner. weight. wait. i don’t want to wait.
They told me I had to watch my weight, but I sat and stared and slept and ate as much as I could and as much as I wanted, not gaining an ounce, and I went out and flaunted my beautiful curves and my beautiful bends, my beautiful beginnings and my beautiful ends, my bumps and my lumps and my rises and falls, my fleshy domain with its own private walls. Got a bag of cheetos and a beer to spare? I’ll eat the whole town’s food – I don’t even care.
Of the world on your shoulders. Too much. Shrug it off, there is no other option. It can push you into oblivion, don’t let it. Get up, walk around, look at the sky, feel the rain, hear music. The weight of the world is not yours to bear. Give it to Gid. Or whatever else you believe in.
they don’t talk much anymore, and she’s definitely okay with that because it saves them the pressure and time of a painfully awkward conversation about the weather or something stupid of the sorts. but he still hangs around to watch her paint, sometimes going the long way to spend the last three bucks in his pocket to buy her a chocolate bar they can split. it’s better, and it feels like a load of weight lifting off her shoulders whenever she sees him from the corner of her eye, sipping a cup of tea.
they don’t talk, but it seems like they are when she’s interrupted by a sudden block of creativity and stands there, staring at her easel. but then he pats her shoulder and nods, chewing on his share of kit-kat, and it’s the closest thing to words because she’s interrupted again by the urge to say something. except it’s enough and she doesn’t need to ask for more.
He hefted the idol in his hand and poured out enough sand so their weights were equal. It was going to be a gift for his daughter. She loved idols and idolatry. She would soon summon the Skeleton King and be known for the destruction of the middle school.
Great and blue, the water bears down on me, sinking its icy fangs into my clothes, tearing away my breath. I’m falling. Falling through a cold oblivion, unable to breath. I feel no pain, and my screams are silent as I sink. My desperate fingers, grasping at the surface, fade and blur as my eyes slip shut, accepting inevitability.
They said they weight of the guilt would catch up with her far faster than the law in the end. They said that nights would be spent sleepless, staring up at the cracks in her plaster ceiling. They said that she’d never be able to make her hands feel clean again.
She smiles as she polishes her knife in the dying light of the fire.
They had said a lot of things, none of which seemed to be true.
Throughout The Fault In Our Stars, Augustus carries a huge weight on his shoulders. He tries to act healthy but eventually the weight, a relapse of cancer, overwhelms him, leaving him no choice but to tell his girlfriend Hazel that he is most likely going to die. This is ironic because Hazel feels she is the sicker one and also tries to act healthier than she is.
starved again
hunger makes sharp hips
snake like silhouettes
there’s
beauty in bone
in being alone
but
the weight of what was
hangs heavy here
tied down by
liquid lines
of bad habits
disremembered
I also love the guy. But you do know that the .coms are keeping a little tiny bit track of you. Wonder what my IP address reveals. How HEAVY it weighs in the bigger scheme of things. Time’s up. Efficiency, baby.
The need to write is bearing its weight on me. So much, that I can actually feel my butt getting bigger. I like to write, but the need to for work, money, directions, aims, improvement is so heavy that I want to run into the sunset. Weighs me down.
I long for the weight of his words to pin me against these paper town walls. I want to watch them crumple because I found a feeling heavier than a ship, yet gentle as birds in flight. I wish for the weight to be my demise, then to arise from the ashes and become light.
GIVE ME ANOTHER WORD
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to be in space. Weightlessly floating through an eternity of darkness without a sound. Another thing that comes to mind is density. What would it feel like to be collapsed in a black hole, or to be taken in by the gravity of a large planet? That would be pretty sweet.
The next thing that comes to mind is the weight of being a human. It seems as though so many people have struggles of their own that they’re trying to get through. When will the day come where peace becomes a universal feeling and understanding? If someone is reading this, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!
You said, “Darling, it’s not a thing to worry about. Forget about it.” Your hands spoke differently. Oh, your eyes were cold. Why did I remember them? You were nothing but jack-daws, faceless mouths, gawping hands. Eyes on your fingers that scoured inches and centimeters, digging into the microscopic pores of my skin. You’re a menace, you should be put down, I yell, hopelessly, my feet dangling an inch from the sidewalk. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
The weight of the world was on her back, and she had no choice but to stand up and walk around with it. It was like having a bag full of bricks and having no other option but to walk around with it. It was painful, she hated everything and she only wanted to quit from everything albeit she couldn’t. Some people have decided to be strong about it, but she was different from those people.
The gravity of it dripped from his arms, his face, stuck to him like sweat, and he struggled under the terrible burden.
Until she appeared, hair flapping like a banner behind her in the wind, her grey eyes filled with sorrow, and she placed a hand on the weight above him, helped him to bear it.
“Atlas,” she said, lips folded into a frown.
“I’m sorry.”
Your weight does not define who you are.
It defines societies restrictions and limits of beauty. q
Whether you weigh less than what is deemed “appropriate,” or “beautiful,” or over the standard, your worth is not limited to a scale that determines your outer and far less important, beauty.
L lost my weight when i was 15 years old. I am happy about it. Its not
The weight of the world seems to rest on teenagers’ shoulders.
Getting good grades, having extracurricular activities, doing well on the SATs and ACTs, in order to ensure a successful future life.
They hear that they’ll be happy in the future, but what about right now?
I’m trying to write about some other word, but Oneword keeps on showing me the word ‘weight’. Maybe it’s irony or this universe is trying to tell me something.
I’m normal weighted person. I would love to put on some weight. More of muscular mass. I love being fit and strong. We need to take a proper diet in order to keep our weight in correct place. Hope i’ll be this thin in future as well.
She could feel the weight of it pressing down around her, twining greedy fingers around her lungs. The hard knot in her chest refused to budge.
He turned from her then, taking steady steps away from her. Always going the opposite direction. Always treading where she couldn’t reach for him.
The weight of you own lack and your own grief can kill you. Rise above your lack and problems and reach your goals like you have been meant to do. you are a spiritual being in a human material body. Prove it.
The weight of her problems seem to overburden her at times. But with faith and perseverance she she believes that with time everything will be as it should be, and work out fine.
Some people have the weight of the world on their shoulders. When you watch television programmes you can see people who really do. Buffy, for example. She talks a lot of about having “the weight of the world” on her shoulders. Of course, she is fictional. She plays the role of a girl balancing life or death. My situation is different, but yet it’s very much the same.
Numbers and calories defining self-worth. Anorexia. Eating disorders. Residential treatment. Struggle. Recovery. Fear. Lack of control.
Weight describes how heavy an object is. Like your body weight. And stuff.
It can also be an abstract feeling, weight inside.
Weight describes how heavy an object is. Like your body weight.
The weight of the world was on his shoulders. Weighing heavily down, burdening. He could not walk straight. He needed support. He needed sleep. And so he finally put down down the weight on his shoulders. Stopped caring about the world’s problems. And sleep soundlessly.
I feel as if my baby sister does not feel comfortable in her own skin because of her weight. I wish I knew how to help.
Summer weight, it was always the summer weight that left her feeling a bit depressed.
Weight is a vector quantity if you see it from scientific point of view. It is considered to be the force that pulls everything towards the centre of Earth.
i hate my weight. weight ruins peoples lives. whether its regarding health concerns, or just self confidence. it has ruined me. i wish i was thinner. weight. wait. i don’t want to wait.
heavy. binding. blinding. low. i’m kept down by the things i don’t know.
They told me I had to watch my weight, but I sat and stared and slept and ate as much as I could and as much as I wanted, not gaining an ounce, and I went out and flaunted my beautiful curves and my beautiful bends, my beautiful beginnings and my beautiful ends, my bumps and my lumps and my rises and falls, my fleshy domain with its own private walls. Got a bag of cheetos and a beer to spare? I’ll eat the whole town’s food – I don’t even care.
Of the world on your shoulders. Too much. Shrug it off, there is no other option. It can push you into oblivion, don’t let it. Get up, walk around, look at the sky, feel the rain, hear music. The weight of the world is not yours to bear. Give it to Gid. Or whatever else you believe in.
they don’t talk much anymore, and she’s definitely okay with that because it saves them the pressure and time of a painfully awkward conversation about the weather or something stupid of the sorts. but he still hangs around to watch her paint, sometimes going the long way to spend the last three bucks in his pocket to buy her a chocolate bar they can split. it’s better, and it feels like a load of weight lifting off her shoulders whenever she sees him from the corner of her eye, sipping a cup of tea.
they don’t talk, but it seems like they are when she’s interrupted by a sudden block of creativity and stands there, staring at her easel. but then he pats her shoulder and nods, chewing on his share of kit-kat, and it’s the closest thing to words because she’s interrupted again by the urge to say something. except it’s enough and she doesn’t need to ask for more.
He hefted the idol in his hand and poured out enough sand so their weights were equal. It was going to be a gift for his daughter. She loved idols and idolatry. She would soon summon the Skeleton King and be known for the destruction of the middle school.
the average weight of a human brain is 3 pounds.
the average weight of a human heart is 7 pounds.
don’t think too heavy.
Great and blue, the water bears down on me, sinking its icy fangs into my clothes, tearing away my breath. I’m falling. Falling through a cold oblivion, unable to breath. I feel no pain, and my screams are silent as I sink. My desperate fingers, grasping at the surface, fade and blur as my eyes slip shut, accepting inevitability.
They said they weight of the guilt would catch up with her far faster than the law in the end. They said that nights would be spent sleepless, staring up at the cracks in her plaster ceiling. They said that she’d never be able to make her hands feel clean again.
She smiles as she polishes her knife in the dying light of the fire.
They had said a lot of things, none of which seemed to be true.
She doesn’t know the difference between weight and wait. They both have the same the same heavy feeling.
Throughout The Fault In Our Stars, Augustus carries a huge weight on his shoulders. He tries to act healthy but eventually the weight, a relapse of cancer, overwhelms him, leaving him no choice but to tell his girlfriend Hazel that he is most likely going to die. This is ironic because Hazel feels she is the sicker one and also tries to act healthier than she is.
The weight of the world upon my shoulders, a stretch of time beneath my feet. These are the burdens we go with in life. Oh what bitter sweet.